


To What Could Have Been

by SmallSherbert



Series: Fremione [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Pining, mostly canon, no ron bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmallSherbert/pseuds/SmallSherbert
Summary: All the moments that happened.Dreams for the moments that never were.Some fluff, mostly pining and a dash of angst.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: Fremione [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038538
Kudos: 7





	1. First Impressions

** First Impressions **

_02 May 1999_

'Hindsight is a curse.' She thinks, tucking away a stray curl, wind biting at the tops of her cheeks.

It isn't until she stops, truly stops, allowing more than just a brief flash of a memory to surface does she think of all the things that were never said, all that they never got to say and all that they really should have said. And it burns away at something deep inside. A place that she never knew existed until _that_ second. Burns away with words she could never describe - words that escape her, but isn’t that the irony?

How the words escape her, like they did then and how she believes that they always will. The Universe must have a twisted sense of humour to take away all the right words from the _brightest witch of her age_. 

‘The bloody irony.' She grumbles, willing her legs to keep moving. What a twisted sense of humour not unlike someone she once knew.

Pushing forward she counts to 12.

One step at a time, isn't that the saying?

A few more steps and it will all be okay. 

She can let go.

Finally.

_Maybe._

* * *

_01 September 1991_

She remembers the very first moment they crossed paths. She is pretty sure that he doesn't. Why would he, she was only just a small thing with hair flying from her face resembling a creature untamed. She hadn't even heard of Sleekeazy's and the thought of taming her curls was nowhere near the top of her priorities. The things worth caring about weren't superficial. Being _pretty_ was not of importance. Anything worth caring about would be buried in words, in theories written and shared. That which was important would be tucked away in a well-read text with dog-eared pages. Well, that was the decision that young Hermione Jean Granger had decided many moons ago, after spending her formative years on playground side lines with only the writers of the classics to keep her company.

So, when he didn't notice her standing there, hand poised to tap on their compartment door, and barrelled straight past her Hermione was not surprised. She was used to people not paying her much attention. Though she hoped that this time would be different.

Hermione prided herself on paying attention to details. Of course, she was aware that the boy to his right, matching his pace was clearly an identical twin. Her keen eye set to finding differences between them, His features were ever so slightly softer. The slope of the nose not so sharp. The curve of his jaw. It was his smile that grabbed her attention and dragged her eyes down the train's corridor as her ears were tickled by his boisterous laugh. A laugh almost as bold as his hair.

"Sorry," He yelled over his shoulder, a glimpse of a look thrown in her direction. "Important business. Very. Importa-"

"Come on Gred," his brother said, tugging at the sleeve of his robe "Better be quick."

and with that they were gone, his laughter still ringing in her ears. ' _What an odd name,’ She_ thought, giving herself an internal shake as she turned back to the compartment door, hand dropping back to her side. ' _Gred.'_

Turning to the compartment, her eyes landed on a face split wide open with a grin.

"You haven't seen a frog, have you? A boy named Neville has lost one." She asked, unnerved as to how a person could smile with such vigour and their face not ache.

"No, try that way." The boy with locks replied, pointing in the opposite direction that the twins had gone down. His eyes glinting with something that Hermione could not quite place. Something she would later come to name. Mischief.

"Right, thank you." She said and continued to the next door.

And if you had asked her when they exited the train, young Hermione Granger would have sworn to you, that his laughter was continuing to ring in the air around her. She couldn't help but to think would this new adventure bring her the chance to laugh like that.

~*~

Her eyes found him again as Professor McGonagall marched the group of first years to the front of the hall. Not that he was hard to miss, mind you. He was nestled between his twin and the boy with the wide mouth from the train, all three of them attempting, and failing, to hold in their laughter. Hermione wondered what they could possibly be laughing about at a time like this. Did the sorting ceremony not demand the full attention of the hall?

The scene before her was overwhelming. Candles floating mere inches above the heads of students already seated at the table. And do not get her started on that up there - directly above their heads. The vast expanse that would normally be a ceiling was currently mimicked the velvet blanket of sky that existed outside the confines of the walls, dotted with stars. She could hear the whispers from the other first years, wondering at the stars gazing back at them.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside." Hermione felt the words tumble from her mouth, and the familiar creep of a blush begin at the tips of her ears as several other first years shot her an odd glance. Hermione mentally cursed herself, embarrassed to have let her mouth run ahead. "I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." She added, as if to make it better. The stares only intensified. It occurred to her in that moment that perhaps most of her classmates hadn't read that book.

They didn't need to. They would have been told about Hogwarts first-hand. Stories passed down the generations of magical lineage.

Hermione had always known she was different and even here among children who shared her same talents, she feared the same was true. She had discovered that even here, in a place of endless possibilities that Hermione would not start the school year on the same footing as all her classmates. Hermione had spent all summer diving in and out books on the history of the world she would be joining. Hours had merged into days and weeks where she would read late into the night. The excitement, at some point, had been marred by feelings of doubt and fear as she had delved into the darker parts of Wizarding history.

A swell of joy tingled from her heart to her hands as Hermione cast her mind back to Professor McGonagall arriving on her doorstep, dressed in the oddest clothes Hermione had ever seen, a letter gripped firmly in her right hand. A letter that Hermione had hidden away in her school trunk, tucked away in the pages of her journal. The only tangible proof Hermione had had over the summer that she was not in fact going mad. That she had, in fact, never been mad and would actually... 

truly...

without a shadow of a doubt...

be learning magic.

As the months had gone on by Hermione had found herself often pinching the inner side of her left wrist, to remind herself that every part of the journey so far had been real. All those little quirks, as her parents had so politely named her magical outbursts, were not a figment of imagination - a by-product of an overactive brain as several of her former Doctors had said. Her magical outbursts were talent. Fighting the urge to pinch herself and confirm the ceiling truly did look like the sky, Hermione dusted her hands against her robes.

Sadly, the hopes and dreams of finding friends in this new world crumbled under the horror of magical history. Hermione recalled the gut wrenching feeling of discovering how the Wizarding World was recovering from a war. That even in a world of infinite possibilities, she had learnt that she might not truly belong. Muggleborns were a grey area. Bottom of the barrel to many of the Traditional Wizarding Families. Hermione has artfully misplaced those books, fearful that if her parents ever read them that she would be forced to attend a local muggle school instead of Hogwarts. Her ever so sweet parents who wanted nothing but the best for their only child would absolutely not allow her to be in harm’s way.

Hiding that recent dark history of the Wizarding World was the first time Hermione Granger had lied to her parents. She truly hoped it would be the last.

A small cough, from the front of the hall, brought Hermione back into the present. Tattered fabric perched on a stool introduced itself as The Sorting Hat, this would be the means of allocating each of them to a house. Hermione found the song of the Sorting Hat to be enchanting, watching with bright eyes where each student was being directed to.

Each table divided into 4 block of colour and breaking out into sporadic cheers as each first year timidly took their seats. Within the blink of an eye Hermione heard her name being called. Every bone in her body suddenly felt twice as heavy as they did a moment ago. The walk to the chair felt wobbly. Hermione felt slightly off balance. Fingers crossed within the sleeves of her robes she prayed to a higher power to steer her clear of the table full of deep green robes. Hermione was sure she'd hear whispers from the other first years, on their way into the castle, that no good witches or wizards were put in Slytherin.

As she inched forward to be sorted, Hermione could not help but to think that Ravenclaw, the house that of wit and learning, would be the only logical option. Yet, for half a second it crossed Hermione's mind whether she could be brave, be bold and be someone new. Could she be the best of the best? Hermione hoped if only for a moment that she could be brave. Hoped that she could be more than just her timid frame. More than just flyaway hair. More than just being alone. The train of thought died quickly when Professor McGonagall plopped the hat onto her curls in such a manner that Hermione had to tilt her neck to keep her vision from being completely obscured by the wide brim of the hat.

Every set of eyes fixated on the petite brunette and the hat. Hermione had never felt pressure like this before, not like any exam or test. Sweat gathered in the palms of her hands, fingers still crossed and hidden in the sleeves of her robes.

Seconds grew into minutes which stretched into hours, or so it felt in the mind of an 11-year-old. The Sorting Hat bouncing rapidly between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

"You are right of course," the voice of the hat trickled sweetly into her ear "Ravenclaw does seem best. Although, a fire burns inside of you Miss Granger. Mmm yes, a lion's pride"

"Gryffindor" boomed the Hat across the hall before Hermione had a moment to take in what the hat might have meant. The comment quickly forgotten as Hermione scurried to find a seat. Overwhelmingly aware that no table in the hall made noise like the table of scarlet and gold. For a brief moment Hermione thought she could hear Gred's cheering with more clarity than any other. He was jumping and hollering and shouting obscenities at the Slytherin table. The rivalry, it would seem, ran deep between both houses.

Shooting a big smile in his direction, as she tried to shake every hand being offered, Hermione was welcomed to the table. The feeling of other's patting her back, smiling and cheering for _her_ had Hermione floating all the way to bed. She promised herself she would spend more time exploring the wide halls, moving stairs and odd portraits in the morning. For now, she wanted to bottle this feeling.

  
For the first time, Hermione Granger truly believed she could belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you for getting this far.
> 
> This is my first ff in honour of the first fanfiction pairing I ever read. Intended to be a one shot although I am 90% sure its going to be 7 chapters in total.
> 
> This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. I do not own.
> 
> All mistakes are my own. No Beta.


	2. And So It Begins

** And So It Begins **

_02 May 1999_

She tried counting how many steps it would take from the apparition point but she found focusing on the pull of muscles in her calves to be a better distraction. It took only eight steps before she was able to spot the heads of auburn hair dotted across the field. It took twelve steps before any of them noticed her arrival. Ginny edged forward slowly, eyes locked in. Hermione could trace the path that freshly dried tears had etched into her freckled cheeks. Ginny's eyes marred by puffy lids - Those eyes eyes deep like morning coffee.

Over the years, she had found that she could never lie to those eyes. Ginny saw right through her. The fierce redhead had a knack for knowing the things that she was thinking, often before she knew herself. A skill that Hermione is sure she inherited from Molly over the years. Summers spent at The Burrow had formed a bond of sisterhood between them. The tension in her shoulders eased as Hermione pulled the younger witch into a tight embrace. Ron's eyes met her own over Ginny's head, a macabre smile dragging at the corners of his mouth. She shoots him a small smile in return, hoping that will be enough. At least, until the day is over.

Holding Ginny so closely, reminds Hermione of how petite the younger witch truly is. The youngest Weasley.

"'Mione" She says, pulling back, "I am so glad you are here. Harry will be here any moment now and then we can all walk over together."

"Yes, lovely," Hermione replies, "I recognize a lot of faces from the wedding."

Not entirely a truthful statement; she hadn’t really looked at the faces of those in attendance. Fearful that they would mirror _him_ back to her. She found herself eager to talk about anything else, to focus her attention on anything else and not the reason that they were all gathered – for the celebration of life, a mockery of the happiness found at the wedding of Bill and Fleur.

Ginny simply nodded in agreement and Hermione wondered if she could hear the parts that Hermione was unable to speak. Entering a comfortable silence together, the two withces re-joined the group. Conversations flitted around and Hermione found she could smile and nod in polite agreement at what she hoped were the appropriate times. Throat slick with the tears that she knew she needed to hold. It would not do for her to cry. This wasn't the right time. 

The seconds and minutes merged into what felt like endless time.

' _Merlin, where are you Harry?_ '

* * *

_31 October 1991_

Hermione did not continue to float along the halls of Hogwarts following the Sorting Ceremony. Rather she found herself weighed down by textbooks, parchment rolls and extracurricular reading as Hermione had wanted to assert her place in the Wizarding World. Hermione had always thought that eagerness was admirable. It appeared as the weeks went on that this was not a universal thought and the young Gryffindor found that despite a month in school, she was the only first year without a friend. Naturally, she overcompensated by proving her worth to the Professors and excelling in every class. Nothing less than first place would do.

A small smile from her Head of House, Professor McGonagall, after Hermione had answered a particularly difficult question was all that had been gained thus far, and a good portion of house points too. The latter did not seem to matter in the grand scheme of things, as the boys of Gryffindor were determined to throw all house points away. It wasn't just Ron and Harry that had a knack for trouble, as it turns out. The twins and their friend from the train were notorious for their pranks and were the number one reason for Gryffindor losing house points. Hermione had learnt quite quickly that their names were Fred, George, and Lee, respectively, and causing trouble appeared to be a family trait that Ron had inherited.

Hermione had done her best to stop Ron and Harry from getting into trouble with no success. Hermione had found Ron to be rather rude in the handful of conversations they had shared. As such, she avoided both Ron and Harry so as not overhear any of their conversations lest she find herself on another midnight trip faced with a three headed dog. For a number of nights, this bushy haired witch had poured over advanced texts on magical creatures with no clue on the purpose of breeding a three headed dog. That particular path of extracurricular reading had swiftly come to an end when Madam Prince quizzed Hermione on her book choices. Not wanting to draw suspicion, Hermione had mentally filed away the creature to study at another time. The warning given by Headmaster Dumbledore at the Sorting Ceremony weighing heavy on her conscience. With strengthened determination, Miss Granger threw herself into her studies accepting that perhaps being alone wasn't all that bad - not with a library as big as the entirety of her parent's home.

Fate, however, had other plans. All Hallows Eve fell upon the castle with a quickness that not even the Professor's had expected. The morning air was crisp as Autumn drew in and the students rushed through the halls to their first class of the day. Professor Flitwick's class was, without a doubt becoming, Hermione's favourite class. The class required a delicious combination of focus and precision in order to master the technique needed for casting a successful charm. Hermione regularly found herself bouncing in her seat with unadulterated excitement. Hermione was well aware her eagerness was grating on her classmates, a fact that she chose to shelve away in the recess of her mind. It would do her no good to get caught up in what other's thought of her, she simply had to prove them wrong. On this particular morning, the patience of this bright witch was being pulled to the limit and Hermione tried to block out the sounds of Ron's incorrect incantation. She did try to ignore him. To fight against the urge to grab his wand and prevent him from taking someone's eye out, with the way in which he was waving it about. As an alternative, she found herself speaking the levitation charm louder than almost every other voice - not to show off, of course not. It was only with the best intentions did Hermione find herself correcting the red head sitting next to her.

"You are saying it all _wrong_." She said, " And you should move your wand like this." Hermione demonstrated the charm perfectly, gaining an excited squeal from Professor Flitwick and, naturally, some house points which had been lost when Seamus had blasted his feather into smithereens. Ron's face changed to a shade that could rival his hair, it looked as if his ears could light aflame any moment. A horrible expression twisted his features, as though he had tasted something particularly foul. The smile on Hermione's face was gone and this awful sinking feeling in her gut took hold, almost as if someone had force fed her boulders.

Thankfully, the class was dismissed before Hermione could dwell on this further. Although, despite her best attempts Hermione did not make it far enough to escape the sharp cut of the words that would follow.

‘It's no wonder no one can stand her … she's a nightmare, honestly.’

But Hermione overheard him. Running away in tears she found that the sinking feeling from the moment earlier did not ease, rather it grew and encompassed her in its discomfort.

How _thoughtless_ could one person be, she wondered. It was not _who_ had said those words that bothered Hermione. It wasn't that the words were _said_. It was that _she_ heard them. His thoughtless comment had confirmed her worst fears.

Hermione Jean Granger was alone and not particularly liked to boot.

For the first time, but not the last - although Hermione did not yet know that - she skipped class. Attending class no longer felt important. With great heart ache, she hid away in the First Floor Bathroom and cried until she was certain that her body held not a single tear more. Staring deeply at her own reflection, she determined that she looked awful. No if ands or buts. Awful. Splashing cold water on her face soothed the rawness that she felt externally but did nothing for the pain she felt somewhere deep in her ribcage. As a distraction and excuse to perfect her charm work, Hermione spent hours practicing the levitation charm on loose tiles in the bathroom, floating them as high as she could. When this became tiresome, Hermione began reciting chapters she had memorised for Potions. The rumours that surrounded the Potions Master struck her with fear. He would not be the easiest to impress.

Having given into her sadness, hunger had not crossed Hermione's mind leaving her thoughts to wander. Unaware how time had run away from her and that the Halloween Feast had already commenced. Unaware that danger was about to enter the bathroom and disturb the peace she had created. Unaware of the small click of the bathroom door being locked from the outside.

Hermione had no idea how the troll had gotten into the bathroom. She had no idea how to get around the creature. In fact, it was in the moment that her terrified scream ripped itself from her lungs and bounced off the tiles, echoing back, that Hermione accepted her imminent death. She didn't have time to think of how her premature death may impact her sweet parents before the troll began smashing the sinks in an attempt to crush her. Water sprayed in every direction, dragging her unruly curls across her line of vision.

Instinct took over. It was in this moment that Hermione's hand searched for her wand and she began to move her body out of the troll's reach, that the bathroom door swung open. There stood two of the most unlikely saviours and by Godric was she grateful to see them.

Earlier arguments now long forgotten.

As the years would pass by, most details of this night would become hazy. Hermione wouldn't be able to tell you why she chose to lie to Professor McGonagall or what exactly the lie was. She would be able to tell you though, if you asked, how much pride she felt, in that moment, when Ron spoke the incantation for the levitation charm perfectly. She wouldn't be able pinpoint the moment that their mutual dislike subsided because there are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other and knocking out a 12-foot mountain troll is one of them.

~*~

The rumour mill churned out many stories from the events that happened on Halloween, varying in their accuracy. The more outlandish tales she was certain came from the twins and Lee Jordan, although she was equally certain that she would never be able to prove this.

An unexpected consequence of becoming friends with Harry and Ron, was that she became visible. No longer _just_ a know-it-all, Hermione found that she had become useful. More and more of Gryffindor were warming up to Hermione and when she was not with boys, people would still stop and talk to her. On occasion, classmates would ask her for help and listen without rolling their eyes when she rambled for perhaps a little longer than necessary.

The troublesome trio: Fred, George and Lee began to seek out Hermione regularly for her thoughts on their never-ending list of hypothetical scenarios. Although it never remained entirely hypothetical. Their pranks escalated and with Hermione's advice they were getting better at not being caught. Hermione was still mentally evaluating this dynamic having not yet arrived at a conclusion on what to do, she had settled for Gryffindor losing a lot fewer house points.

Having got up extra early to nab the best weekend study spot, she was determined not to be distracted. It didn't take long for Hermione to feel as though she was being watched. Straightening the length of her spine, bracing herself for the troublesome trio to make their weekend appearance.

"Do you ever come here to study" Hermione asked, without looking up from the book in front of her. 

"Don't need to." Replied one of the twins, tone drenched in sarcasm "We have much better things to do."

"Is that so?" Hermione countered "I was unaware that bothering me could be better than studying."

"Touché."

Hermione chose not to respond. The text she was reading on Charms was particularly exciting and she knew that they would talk eventually. They were not the standby and be silent type of group. When the usual tirade of questions did not bombard her and the silence became pressing. She diverted her attention from the text in front of her and found only one third of the troublesome trio. Only one twin. George was not at his right-hand side. Lee was not there leaning against the shelves of books as she would usually find. At her puzzled expression Fred began to grin. The type of smile that Hermione wanted to return. She found his smile to be contagious. Not that she would tell him such a thing. No, in reality Hermione chose to raise her brow with an unspoken question.

"George and Lee are with Angelina and Alicia."

"Quidditch practice" He added, rather quickly.

"Oh. Does this mean Gryffindor shan't be losing house points today?" Although intended to be a playful question, Hermione found the words came out sharp. Surprisingly, he barked out a laugh and sat himself next to Hermione, turning the chair to straddle it.

His usually jovial mannerisms were subdued, it did not seem that Fred would berate Hermione today. Rather he peeked over her shoulder and began to read the text alongside her. For some reason, this flustered Hermione. She could feel her nerves building with each line of text he read in silence. Reading was not a group task, she thought. She found privacy in reading.

The words in her vision began to swim, no longer making sense. Hermione decided that she would be damned to let him know that he was setting her on edge. She knew Fred. Albeit not very well but he wasn't dangerous.

So why were her hands shaking?

Why could she feel herself blushing?

"Do you need this for homework?" She asked. He shook his head to indicate that he did not.

Fred had finished reading both pages of text in front of them by the time Hermione's brain had grasped the situation they were in. Now that he was bored once again, he redirected his attention to the many loose parchment pieces scattered across the desk. The size of the desk was overshadowed by the sheer volume of work that Hermione had spread out.

"Blimey. This is third year work Hermione." He spoke in awe "Bloody good work too."

The blush on her cheeks darkened.

"Does Flitwick have you doing this for extra credit?" He continued "I think you could even give Percy a run for his money" 

"No. Not extra credit. I'm doing it for fun." Hermione said. 

"Fun."

"Yes, fun." Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Hermione wished she had something better to say. Something infinitesimally more interesting.

"I doubt you'll need it, but if you do need any help with all of this." Gesturing to her work "I'd be happy to - you know -help. I'm not _entirely_ stupid."

Hermione could only nod in agreement, an action Fred mistook as disinterest.

"That would be useful actually." She spoke quickly, not wanting Fred to become bored and leave. "In fact, I have a question on magical creatures."

'Magical creatures?"

"Yes. Specifically, three headed dogs."

"Right. The Great Madam Prince isn't gonna let you have that information Granger. That sounds far too dangerous."

"Oh." She responded, her tone despondent. Resigning herself to the possibility that Harry, Ron and herself would have to go back to the drawing board if they wanted to solve the mystery of the three headed dog. Their investigation into Professor Snape and the beast had been stunted in recent days. All that Ron and Harry spoke about was Quidditch and Harry's new broomstick. Hermione never did care for sports.

"You should ask Hagrid. He's a genius when it comes to creatures." Fred said, drawing Hermione out of her reverie. "I bet he'll even come down to the next Quidditch game now that Harry is on the team. Ask him then."

With schemes running rampant in her mind, Hermione found that the remainder of the morning flew by. As it turned out, Fred was not stupid and incredibly talented at Charms work. He taught Hermione a spell to conjure fire that could be contained. She couldn't help the boisterous squeal that escaped her when she successfully conjured two jars worth of bluebell flames on her first try. It appeared that Fred was equally impressed as he pulled her in for a quick hug. When Madam Pince turned into their nook of the library following the noise, they were the picture of innocence. Heads placed close together and the jars of bluebell flames balanced precariously on their lap, hidden by a large tomb of text.

Before lunch, Fred darted off spouting that he had a recommendation for Hermione. He returned with _Quidditch through the ages_. He explained how she should probably get familiar with the rules of Quidditch now that Harry was the youngest seeker in a century. Hermione uttered her thanks and walked towards the Great Hall with Fred. Despite not finishing as much work as she wanted, Hermione felt that she had left the library wiser than she had entered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at posting regularly but I am working on it, i swear.
> 
> There are more chapters of this story waiting to be looked over and I hope that, for now, you have enjoyed the last two chapters.
> 
> As always, mistakes are my own. No Beta. And I do not own the characters, that pleasure belongs to She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named


	3. Chapter 3

**Good** **Intentions**

_Christmas 1991, December_

The days at Hogwarts following the Quidditch match gained traction. There were times it felt like Hermione blinked and the week had vanished before her. Hermione found that having friends required a lot of energy. It seemed that Harry and Ron couldn't keep themselves out of trouble, the twins were always up to trouble and the girls in her dorm-room had decided Hermione wasn't having enough fun. There was less and less time for reading. Harry and Ron had voiced, profusely, their hatred for the library yet it fell on deaf ears. She nagged them to no end how this was not the time for them to be averse to studying.

This was personal. The current counter argument was that Christmas was nearing. Harry and Ron had tried relentlessly to force her to be jolly. As if that were possible. Hermione tried not to show it, but she was worried. If _Quidditch through_ _the Ages_ were not enough to scare her from the sport, watching Harry battle for control of his broom certainly had. Honestly, flying on a broom is the stuff of nightmares. Regardless of the fiasco that was Harry's first match, they had got what they wanted. Hagrid had given them a clue, accidentally but a clue, nonetheless.

Hermione reminded herself that she would need to thank Fred for his help. Without the spell that he had taught her, she wasn't sure how they may have distracted Snape long enough for Harry to get back on his broomstick. Hermione decidedly felt no guilt about the almost harm she had brought upon her Professor. It was his own fault - who in their right mind would harm a student. 

In a hurry to defend Professor Snape, Hagrid had spilled details on the three-headed dog. Not enough, but something and Hermione could work with something. At least she was trying to. She found herself wishing that she could spend more time in the library with Fred. She could do with his extra knowledge right now. Especially with Harry and Ron being too busy complaining to do any actual reading.

The twins and Lee had stopped accosting Hermione in the library on weekends. The troublesome trio had given Hermione and the boys a wide berth to whisper their secrets in the library stacks. Instead, they managed to wheedle her for solutions to their pranks late into the night. Hermione had made it a habit to study late in the common room area, especially after the library had closed. With all the effort that they had been putting in to find Flamel, Hermione had doubled down on late night common room studies. It seemed the universe was working against her on this. More often than not the twins and Lee would levitate her work away from her and pester her with questions. If they were not pestering her with questions to more hypothetical situations, they would keep her awake as they told jokes and stories from their earlier years.

She could only hope that the twins and Ron would keep Harry as entertained over Christmas. She would be sad to leave Hogwarts, if only for short while. Hermione’s heart weighed heavy with the knowledge that she could not share with her parents all that she had learned due to the Statue of Secrecy. She would only be able to tell them stories of Magical theory, the grand size of the library and most importantly her friends. Hermione wondered if perhaps she’d tell her parents about her unlikely friendship with best friend’s older brothers. Would she tell her Mother about their pranks and unruly behaviour? Hermione could only imagine the look of shock that would be plastered on her parent’s face if she regaled stories of the twin’s adventures. Perhaps she wouldn’t tell them just yet lest they think their daughter has ran off with the circus.

Bidding her goodbyes to Harry and Ron, she attempted one more time to encourage them to do research without her. Deep down she knew the list of book recommendations would be long lost before the Hogwarts Express pulled into King’s Cross. Truth be told, she would be happy to be home. To spend time with her very normal, simple parents. Maybe she’d even tell her parents how Wizards and Witches were unfamiliar with dentistry.

~*~

Christmas at the Granger household was a delightful affair. Hermione found herself tucked comfortably into the crook of her favourite loveseat, buried beneath the volume of books she had been gifted. The one she was most eager to read remained unopened, a small square wrapped in aged parchment and fastened with a burnt orange string. Despite there being no label, Hermione was certain that the gift was for her.

Her parents were busying themselves cleaning the dishes following dinner, leaving Hermione the chance to open her mystery gift. With great care and a delicate touch, she undid the string and unfolded each edge of the parchment. A small book, just slightly larger than the palm of her hand, inscribed with gold lettering.

_101 Unusual Magical Creatures_.

There was no message written in the book, no tag attached – nothing to indicate who had given this to Hermione. No-one for her to thank. Pocketing the book in her dressing gown, Hermione vowed to read the book later that night, away from the prying eyes of her parents.

~*~

The spine had been cracked and bent into a new shape. The pages dog eared. And she was none the wiser on three headed dogs; a small page on werewolves was all the information available on magical beasts of the canine variety.

A creature called a Runespoor, a three headed snake, bore the smallest resemblance. Runespoor, it seemed, were linked to dark wizards, those with the ability to converse with snakes. Hermione felt no closer to solving the mystery of Snape, the three headed dog and how that all related to someone called Flamel. Having finished all her schoolwork ahead of schedule, she was at her wit’s end. Her determination renewed, she returned to school before the start of term. Hoping that Harry and Ron had fared better.

They had not. Over Christmas Harry had found himself the new owner of a bloody cloak of invisibility that he had, naturally, used to break even more school rules. Hermione could not help but to wonder if the same person who had given her a book on unusual magical creatures had given Harry a cloak of invisibility. Between classes and schoolwork, the trio filled their breaks with research on Flamel. Hermione had yet to be side-lined by the twins who had busied their time with hounding poor Percy. Hermione’s scheduled now included spare time that would be occupied with losing spectacularly at Wizard’s Chess to Ron during Harry’s Quidditch practise. With confidence bolstered at besting Hermione in at least one area of life, Ron was less oafish. Their bickering would cease during their evening games of Wizard’s Chess and they often settled into comfortable conversation.

The headway made in their Flamel research was a lucky whim that sett off a chain of events beyond their control. Hagrid and his love for unusual magical creatures meant the trio found themselves burdened with a baby dragon and a nosey Malfoy. Devising a plan to sneak the baby dragon out of Hogwarts was easy. Easy until they were caught by Filch and severely punished by McGonagall. Having lost more house points in a singular night than Hermione thought was possible, she found herself an outcast once more. She had learnt her previous lesson and vowed to keep her head down and strictly out of trouble until their exams were over.

Her misadventure had garnered the respect of Fred, George and Lee who were determined to take Hermione under their wing. The questions on hypothetical pranks had slowed. Hermione was now a member of their covert gambling club and trainee to their ways of mischief.

“7 Knuts says Ron beats Seamus at Wizards Chess.” George proposes, draping himself across the chair opposite Hermione. She doesn’t look up from her book.

“7 knuts for Seamus blowing the board up.” Counters Lee, sauntering behind Hermione to look over the book her head is buried in.

“I like the odds,” Fred says, sitting himself on the floor in front of George. “9 knuts says Percy appears and bans chess for a week.”

“Hermione, care to wager.” George asks, flipping knuts into the air.

“Trevor doesn’t like fire.” Hermione replies, her tone deadpan.

“You heard it folks, the lady bets 7 knuts that Neville loses that toad again.” Fred smirks as Hermione begins to splutter. “Ah ah ah, no take backs Miss Granger.”

“Have you had your detention yet? Has Filch had the pleasure of terrifying you with his medieval torture methods.” Lee asked. Leering forward as he spoke, a dark grin flashing towards Hermione, her book now closed in her lap and her complexion becoming greyer by the minute.

“Come on now Granger, don’t look so scared.” George said.

“150 house points and 1 detention for dragon smuggling on school grounds – you’re a lucky witch.” Lee said.

Hermione did not feel lucky, eyes glazing over as the older boys began sharing their best detention stories. She felt rotten. She felt like she had disappointed everyone by not setting an example.

“I don’t know what you’re so worried about. Everyone will forget about the house points by the next Quidditch match and you’ll go down in the hall of fame for smuggling dragons.” Fred spoke, his eyes fixed on Hermione’s, his tone mocking. The tension in his brow betrayed his concern. Hermione made her excuses and snuck off to her dormitory before Fred could continue. Having climbed half the stairs, the topic of conversation drifted to preferred choice of jinx in a duel.

Hermione drifted in and out of a fitful sleep. Dreams of exam failure haunting her. 

The final weeks of her first year were a whirlwind, the exams, it seemed, were to be the easiest part. Successfully sneaking past Fluffy, solving Snape’s task and winning the House Cup did not seem real. Hermione had been pinching the inside of her wrist since the end of year feast. She wondered, silently, if every year would be like this.

~*~

Fred found her, the evening before their return train journey, nestled in library stacks.

“Did Harry mention anything about a toilet seat?” He asked, sliding his body onto the seat next to Hermione.

“No, he did not.” She replied. “Madam Pomfrey deemed it to be unsanitary.”

“Merlin! We stole it from the Prefect’s bathroom, what a shame. Percy was not too happy.”

“I can imagine.”

“Are you still doing extra credit?” He continued, plucking a book on herbology out of her grasp and tossing it from their table. “Was a three-headed dog not enough? Or the dragon? Don’t tell me, you’ve kept that troll as a pet, haven’t you?”

“Thank you.”

The words tumble from her lips, carried by a whisper. She thought that he might not hear her. She hoped that he didn't. He did. The arch of his eyebrow rising. He didn’t comment.

“For the spell, I mean, the one from – well, without it I am not sure how we might have.” Gods why couldn’t she breathe. “What I am trying to say is thank you for the fire charm. If I hadn’t used it on Snape, I am not sure if Harry would be alive.”

“You sent Snape on FIRE?” His tone incredulous. “Merlin you are a dark horse. All the things George and I have done, we never thought of that.”

“Right, well yes – Thank you. It was a very useful spell.”

“It sure is. Ron should count himself lucky to have such a clever and dangerous witch as a friend. I’m sure you’ll make a visit to the Burrow. See you around, Hermione.”

“The Burrow?” Hermione called at his retreating form. The library was silent, leaving her to wonder what he meant.

* * *

_02 May 1999_

The tell tale signs of an onset panic attack were causing her hair to prickle with magic.

How could The Boy Who Lived be late to his best friend's brother's funeral? Hermione's hand twitched by her wand as she began to recall a list of hexes to utilise when Harry deigned to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters into what was supposed to be a one shot - how does that even happen?
> 
> **
> 
> Mistakes are always my own. No Beta.


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